Feargus

  Days Until Rhian Returns: 2

  Crew and Company Placement:

  Everywhere ? Everleigh

  The base ? Strauss, Evelyn, Alex, Teeth, Jakob

  On a date ? Adeline

  Oskari ? Michael, Marta

  The lair ? Rhian, Rhydian, Riz, Bells, Sebastian(?)

  Lawing ? Zack

  Gander ? Quinn

  The run from the base was cold but uneventful, and before heading to the city, I checked the ice skating pond in case Kavelin and Adeline had already arrived. When I didn’t spot either of them, I realized it was possible they’d already left, so I asked a young lad who was leaving, one who looked like he’d been there a while, if he’d seen a lass with bright, curly red hair. He hadn’t. So, I probably wasn’t late.

  With that out of the way, I stepped into the city with a very important and specific plan in mind. Aye, it was one track to the bakery where I bought a dozen oatmeal cookies, and had the lass fill up my canteen with hot tea. If I was going to be stuck in a tree for an unknown amount of time, I may as well be warm and have fresh snacks.

  Listen, mates, I wasn’t being a creep for the sake of being a creep. I also wasn’t looking to invade Adeline’s privacy on her date, even though that’s definitely what I’d be doing. The reality is, she was going to be out, exposed, and distracted for at least an hour. If Councilwoman Blanchett wanted her daughter captured and killed, it’d be naive to assume she’d placed all her bets on Quinn and Tag. Not to mention, we were still under Anima threat at the time.

  So, see, I wasn’t planning to watch Adeline and Kavelin—just their surroundings.

  I started my reconnaissance from the rooftops near Kavelin’s townhouse, and not five minutes after I got situated, they emerged arm in arm, all bundled up with their ice skates slung over their shoulders. They seemed comfortable in conversation, and both were smiling.

  I stayed out of earshot, because like I said, I wasn’t spying.

  It took them thirty-two minutes to walk from the townhouse to the skating pond, and along the way, absolutely nothing happened. When they finally arrived, they settled in at the wooden benches around the perimeter, and before putting his own ice skates on, Kavelin helped Adeline with hers. Meanwhile, I observed from a tree in the distance. Far enough away I wouldn’t be spotted by a Barren, but close enough to act if anything went sideways.

  I was decently armed that day with my hand crossbow, but also with a short sword I’d found at the base. I reckoned it was Helena’s, but I didn’t think Michael would mind if I borrowed it—and I reckoned that went for both new Michael and old Michael. What’s important is: if there was an Anima attack, it probably wasn’t wise to put all my eggs in my silver-tipped bolt basket, and I couldn’t very well decapitate someone with a knife.

  Well, not sensibly, anyhow.

  I sipped my tea and ate a cookie while I observed the area.

  Kavelin was an excellent ice skater. Not that I knew much about ice skating, but he seemed to know what he was doing, and that seemed to tickle Addie’s fancy. Much like myself, the lass was a sucker for competence, and let’s face it, I’d date the man myself if he were interested.

  Now, you may be thinking I was paranoid, or maybe I was actually spying on Adeline because I was pining for her. I know how it looks, mates. But no, I wasn’t paranoid. After twenty minutes of not watching Adeline learn how to skate with one of the kindest, most handsome men who’d ever lived, I caught a light drizzle of snow shake from one of the trees nearby.

  Over at the pond, Adeline took a spill on her bottom, and while she was distracted being doted on by Kavelin, I zipped from my tree to another with a better vantage, pausing again to observe.

  I caught another flurry of snow from the same tree I’d noticed it the first time, but there was still no one in sight.

  Of course, if they were Anima, they could be invisible.

  With my crossbow preloaded, I shot toward the tree.

  Bold, you say? Aye, well, if they were planning a clean, easy kill, they had to know that was no longer an option now that someone had eyes on them. Frankly, I’d expected the bolt to just keep whizzing on by, or get stuck in a branch or in the trunk of the tree, but no—the bolt suspended in mid-air, and then, after four and a half seconds, it dropped to the ground. The tree shivered again and more snow fluttered downward.

  I leaped to another nearby tree, and then—

  I suppose the best way to explain a telepath trying to get into your head would be to compare it to someone knocking at the door. You might remember Rhian talking about that a few times, how she could generally tell if someone was attempting to read her mind. Well, that was one such a moment. But here’s the thing: whatever Anima I was dealing with wasn’t trying to extract something from my mind, they were trying to implant something.

  Tough break, though. It’d take a lot more than that to get one over on me—

  The branch beside me wobbled, and I knew I was no longer the only squirrel in that particular tree.

  I hadn’t had a chance to load another bolt, so I reached for my canteen, popped the top and splashed the hot tea over the empty space to my left. But I was just about to make another leap for it, when the figure beside me appeared—looking properly wet and properly ticked off.

  “What the hell are you doing,” Everleigh hissed. “That really hurt.”

  That day, she’d replaced her usual black dress for a pair of black trousers, a black blouse, and a black trench coat, but as always, she had a white bow around her collar.

  “What am I doing?” I asked. “What in Stracha’s Steed are you doing?”

  Everleigh, still frowning deeply, answered, “I’m watching over Abby Blaze. You shouldn’t be here.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s weird.”

  “Why’s it weird?”

  “Because it is,” Everleigh asserted. “And by the way, I saw your note.”

  “Which note?”

  Over by the pond, Kavelin had Adeline by both hands, taking her for a spin in a wide circle. She laughed joyously, even when she stumbled.

  “The one you left for Abby in the book.”

  “All right,” I said, “and?”

  “You sure wasted that opportunity.”

  “Did I?” I asked. “Because I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

  “Okay.” Everleigh Gloom rolled her eyes. “For a genius, you’re really dumb sometimes. But you can go now.”

  There were few people I’d have been comfortable leaving that particular surveillance task with, but Everleigh was absolutely one of them. And besides—I had another look over at Kavelin and Adeline, who were now standing face to face, still holding hands. My stomach fluttered, and my heart pounded, but I was so happy for them—

  Aye, she was right. It was weird.

  So, with my cookies and half a canteen of tea in tow, I apologized for the bolt, and the burning, and I told Everleigh I’d see her back at the base later.

  With my afternoon freed up, I figured it’d be a good opportunity to check the Drop for any communication from Faust. When I got there, there was nothing in the mailbox, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t written. It meant I’d have to check in at the outpost.

  I greeted the greasy fellow behind the counter with a winning smile.

  “Finnegan, Jack,” I said, without him having to ask. I then spun around, tugged down my collar, and showed him my identification tattoo on the back of my neck.

  The Administrator grunted and slipped a sealed letter through the bars.

  Oh, boy. I thanked him and made my way outside.

  Over by the dock, a pair of Legacy Partisans were unloading an embark full of produce. Looked like the Gander would be getting their lemons and limes soon enough.

  I’d have to teach Quinn how to curl tails.

  But anyhow, I hurried around the side of the tap house and snapped the blue wax seal. Inside the envelope was a letter along with three hundred notes. The letter read:

  

  Thank you for informing us.

  Zelda

  Wait, what?

  I reread the letter twice, scanned for fine print, and even flipped it over in case Faust had been feeling creative when she’d written me back. But there it was, and that was it, mates: thank you for informing us. Frankly, the move involving Kavelin’s letter to Blanchett telling her we were all alive was the first test of how much power I actually had—not that I cared for power necessarily—but I'd been mightily curious how it’d be received by the allied Councilwomen when I put it to use.

  Turned out, not so bad.

  Good for me.

  Right?

  …Right.

  I hadn’t been back to the Widow’s Peak since shortly after V died. But as the unofficial official owner of the establishment, I reckoned it was my right to pop in and out through the back door whenever I liked, and that day, I had a few things to take care of.

  Over the months, I’d gotten pretty good at opening the office door without making much noise. Sure, there was a chance I’d barge in on Marta having a nap or baking cookies with a gentleman/gentlewoman caller, but when I stepped through the door, I was alone with the five portraits lined up on the wall, all their faces so similar, but there was only one who I—

  I stepped up to V’s portrait and ran my fingers over her face. Just barely, hovering over the surface as if I might damage it.

  V once told me she’d always felt so plain compared to her sisters who she swore were infinitely more attractive.

  I didn’t see it.

  My stomach churned, and an uncomfortable lump formed in the base of my throat just as the office door squeaked open in a hurry. It was followed by a familiar female laughter.

  “Amalia’s Grace.” Marta cursed, sucking in a breath when she spotted me. “I didn’t even hear you come in.”

  I smiled cheerfully even though in the moment I would have preferred to vomit. “It’s good seeing you, mate,” I said. “Is Michael still here?”

  “Yeah, he is. And honestly, I hope he never leaves.”

  I chuckled. “Aye, I get that. We may need to borrow him soon, granted.”

  “To help with his…?”

  I nodded. “We’re just waiting for our friend to come back in town. He’s a really talented telepath, and if anyone can help—or at least a little—it’ll be him.”

  “Sebastian Vonsinfonie?”

  I couldn’t blame Michael for wanting to inform his sister about what we’d been up to, but Sebastian’s safety depended on discretion. Actually, the whole world’s safety depended on it, apparently. “Aye, but if you could not talk about that too loudly, or with anyone that isn’t—“

  Marta nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “Has Alexander been by?”

  “Yeah, he came to dish out some funds. Apparently this place hasn’t turned a profit in hundreds of years. But I’m hoping that’ll change, you know, once we get the village restored.”

  “Need anything from me?” I asked.

  Marta thought about it a moment, but then she shook her head. “I’m okay. But do you need anything from me?” she offered in return.

  “Aye, if you wouldn’t mind, could I have a few minutes alone with V?”

  Marta’s eyes followed mine over to the portrait hanging on the wall, and with nothing more to say, she patted me on the back. Before leaving the office, she paused, turned around, and added, “Oh, and don’t worry—I never saw you.”

  I smiled in response.

  Once I was alone again, I lifted V’s portrait from the wall and carried it with me over to the cot in the corner. I sat and set her down at eye level.

  “’Ey, gorgeous,” I said as if she could hear me. “I hope you’re all right, you know—wherever people go, if we actually go anywhere when we die. Some people believe in ghosts. I’m on the fence, but I never had a chance to ask if you did, did I?”

  “…”

  I brushed my finger over a strand of loose hair that had been painted into the portrait, as though that might fix it. I missed the way she played with my hair and always indulged my little comforts. I wished I could have done more for her besides get her killed.

  “I’m so sorry, V.”

  I sat in silence with that thought for twenty, twenty-five, twenty-eight seconds.

  “…”

  I fished for my flask in my bag and took a sip.

  “…there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  Once again, the portrait didn’t answer, but I pictured the way she’d set her hand on her hip, and the way the corners of her lips would tighten as if to say, “Get to the point, Jack.”

  So, I got to the point. “I think I have feelings for one of my friends.”

  I waited for the portrait’s eyes to light up playfully and say, “Oh, yeah? It’s not the priest, is it?”

  But the portrait never did. Still, I chuckled.

  “It’s Adeline. You met her a few times, didn’t you? I remember you said she reminded you of yourself when you were young for being so open-minded and curious.”

  “...”

  “I guess I have a type.”

  The portrait didn’t agree, disagree, or even ask me, “So what’s the problem?”

  But I know that’s what V would have asked, so I sighed. “The problem is that I reckon it could work. She’s one of my sister’s best mates, she’s part of our crew, and I know she can survive our lifestyle. She’s strong—really strong. But what kind of person am I, to have loved you, to have lost you, to still love you, and now I’m thinking about somebody else?"

  “…”

  “…”

  I stared at the unmoving portrait for twenty, twenty-two, thirty-one seconds.

  Even though V and I had a rather open arrangement as far as physical intimacy went, other than Derek, I didn’t have feelings for any of the people I’d slept with. And V knew about Derek—V encouraged Derek. V was generous, not jealous, but V was gone, and yet somehow I felt like I was betraying her.

  “…”

  Twelve, fifteen, eighteen seconds.

  I looked away from the portrait only long enough to catch a glimpse of something underneath the shelf with V's tools and various other bits and bobs. I stood from the cot and set the portrait carefully against it, moving to crouch by the shelf. I slid my hand underneath and pulled out the crumpled piece of paper. I opened it carefully, and what I saw almost took me out at the knees.

  It was V’s handwriting, taking up almost every free space on the page, and scrawled in every direction.

  “I…”

  “I lllllllllll…”

  “I lllllllll…”

  “I…”

  “I loooooooo…”

  “IIIIII…”

  For every passing second, the failed words on the page became blurrier and blurrier, like looking at them from behind textured glass. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand while I imagined her sitting at her desk, trying to get her words out the very same way I had done when I still had my food-related problem and kept going on about turkey giblets.

  I pressed the wrinkled piece of paper to my lips.

  And then I remembered: the letter she’d written for me, the one I'd found in the safe. I tucked the crumpled page into my bag carefully, and found what I was looking for in the secret pocket. So far, I hadn’t been able to bring myself to reread it, but now…

  

You have to know: if I’m dead, I died feeling what I’d never thought I’d feel again, even if I may never be able to say it. So please don’t cry for too long, and please don’t let this change who you are, because who you are is bound to change the world—even if one person at a time.

  Who I was?

  Well, V knew exactly who I was.

  And V loved me.

  And I loved V.

  And I loved...

  I loved.